


Breakdown Americana

by Thebiwife



Category: Prison Break, The Americans (TV 2013)
Genre: Alcoholics Anonymous, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, F/F, Gen, Government Agencies, Government Conspiracy, Narcotics Anonymous, Twelve Step Programme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22656424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thebiwife/pseuds/Thebiwife
Summary: Eighteen years after stepping off that train, Paige moves her life to Chicago and attends her first NA meeting.After s2e4 of Prison Break and eighteen years after s6 finale of the Americans.
Relationships: Paige Jennings/Sara Tancredi
Kudos: 6





	1. Paige, 2007

I sat at the back of the chapel, feeling like an intruder were I to take any active part in the meeting. The first of the steps was to admit, albeit silently, that I have a problem. It had been almost two decades since I stepped off that train in an attempt to save my brother, but even longer since I’d last stepped foot in a church.

Although personally I’d been in a better place, professionally things could have been far worse. As an American I continued to work my way up in the state department, the connection to my parents - KGB agents posing as US citizens - was never exposed at a level that harmed my career. If anything, those who did know sought me out as an asset, although to limited ends.Through keeping my brother, Henry, and his former guardian, Stan - the FBI agent who had almost exposed my parents for what they were - at arm's length, I’d been afforded a remarkable lack of probing into my life.

The perfectionist in me hated it; the broken family, the split identity, the not-quite dual-nationality. I would never reach a level in the US Government that both my mother and the KGB had wished for me - primarily from my lack of fluency in a language other than English, a huge irony having Russian-born parents. While I had job security that allowed me to transfer out of DC to Chicago, away from the vices I'd fallen into as a student in the Capital, in order to pursue my PhD at Northwestern as well as work in a supervisory role at the NSA.

My personal life was definitely where I’d felt _most_ lacking. Although I came back for Henry (as far as my parents were concerned) he’s forever since acted like Matthew were his true sibling, Stan his true parent. My solitude, caused by my abandonment of my parents and my brother's split from me, pushed me further into pursuing an academic career as well as a governmental once, something to fall back on if I my true identity were ever discovered.

The irony of being an alien with a birthright, a legitimate illegal, or any other oxymoronic existence that could come to mind, while working for the NSA, was not lost on me. Nor was the fact that this once innocent girl, the one who once judged her parents’ alcohol consumption more than their lack of commitment to each other, ended up with only one relationship with in the city she lived, her dealer.

No wonder I ran away.

“And it was when I saw myself from another person’s perspective, bringing home my next hit, the remnants of the last one on the table, that I first recognized what it took to take that first step. I'm just so sad it took such an extreme outcome of my last to truly get me here. My name is Sara, and I’m an addict.”

“Hi Sara,” the voices in the room resounded around me, despite being a good half dozen or so rows behind the rest of them. I ran the pads of my fingertips across my veins, that despite being hidden by the chunky-knit cardigan the Chicago winters warranted, were still aching for a release.  
  


* * *

  
At the end of the meeting, as members of the congregation gathered for coffee and blueberry pie, I couldn’t stop herself pacing the eight feet or so between myself and Sara. She looked exactly as I had at a similar age, call it a decade or so between us. Sara’s skin still pale with the innocence I had known in my early twenties, her eyes glazed over with the sadness she’d welcomed into her life of admitting she's an addict.

“Hi, Sara?” I found myself saying, clutching my twelve-steps book the way I once would’ve held my bible. “I’m Paige. I hope you don’t mind me saying hi, I just…”

“Nice to meet you Paige,” Sara smiled. “I’m sorry I can’t hang around, I have a PT session at my gym. I’m heading towards 54th to catch the Pink Line if you want to talk and walk?”

“Sure, I need to head to the loop anyway,” I smiled, only half-lying. Sara held the heavy church door open for me as she put her winter coat back on. “Sorry for accosting you...I just see very few people at these meetings who look like me."

“It’s like reverse privilege, right,” Sara laughed dismissively. “I look too _Plain Jane_ to be an addict.”

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that."

"It's ok. I'm used to people looking for the most pitiful excuses to strike up a conversation about anything other than addiction at these things."

"I didn’t talk to you out of pity.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

As we headed up the street I somewhat struggled to keep up with her brisk pace.

“What I meant is...I see myself in you. And I wanted you to know...you’re not alone, Sara.”

Sara stopped in her path. “The funny thing is, Paige, I am alone. I have literally nobody on my side in my life right now.”

“Same here,” Paige exhaled. As they stopped and waited at the subway platform they barely spoke. “I get it you don’t want to, but I’d really like it if we could hang out?” she said, and then laughed. “Sorry, I haven’t asked somebody that since I was in college, sounds pathetic doesn’t it? Who doesn’t have friends in their late thirties. But in truth I could really do with a friend right now.”

Sara turned to face me, eyeing me up and down. I was definitely less intimidating than _Lance_ , a muscular built guy about my age, or many of the others on the programme, who were the kind of people my parents taught me to avoid if they ever did approach us when I was out in the city as a teen. Surely Paige Jennings was a far safer bet for friendship. “Do you want to come to mine tonight? We can order takeout.”

“That would be great actually, thanks for the invite.”

On the train we struggled to maintain conversation. I sat diagonally opposite her, not to encroach on her personal space. After two stops she scrambled in her bag for a pen and paper. “Ok, this is me," she said, scribbling something down. "Here’s my address, shall we say around 8?”

“Ok yes, that's great, see you then.”


	2. Sara, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara and Paige had more in common than even they thought.

There was a knock on my door, promptly, at 8 o’clock. I quickly swept the apartment to make sure there was nothing that would display any weakness on show. Dad had gone around the apartment once with me and most likely once before I’d even been bailed, disposing of needles, swabs, empty bottles. The only thing he’d missed were the two paper cranes on my desk.

I smiled as I opened the door, to see a pale sad face behind it.

“Hi! Paige, Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” she sighed. “I’m sorry, maybe tonight isn’t a good time.”

“It’s as good a time for me as any. Please, come in. I just brewed a pot of tea, you like tea?”

“Sure,” she half smiled.

“Take a seat,” and I went to pour the pot. I spent too long choosing the best mug for her, which was nonsensical as I’m sure her life was as full of imperfection as mine. “So I’ve not seen you at that meeting before?”

“No, I’m new to Chicago, actually.”

“Oh really? What brings you here?”

“My PhD. And I work for the NSA. They relocated me from DC.”

“Wow. That’s really impressive.”

“Come on, I heard you telling that _Lance_ guy you’re a doctor.”

“I...I was a doctor. I don’t quite know if I am one anymore. It's a long story. Do you take milk?”

“Lemon, if you have any. What happened?” she asked, taking the mug of hot tea as I rummaged in my fridge for week-old citrus fruits.

“I worked at a Prison, and...purposefully left the door open. To allow some prisoners to escape. And of course once the severity of what I'd done hit me, I took a few bottles of morphine home with me for good measure.”

“Is that when you...you had your OD?”

I nodded solemnly. “The Police found me when they sent a warrant out for my arrest.”

“Sara, I’m sorry.”

“So I’m on bail, paid for by my father, who also happens to be the Governor of Illinois. I’m on twelve-step because he insists on it. Despite the fact I find the whole higher power thing vomit inducing.”

Paige looked up from her mug sternly.

“Sorry did I offend you?”

“Oh, no no. I did the whole church thing in my teens but long since came to believe there’s only one true higher power.”

“What would that be?”

“Deep-seated political corruption at the highest levels of government.”

Our eyes met and I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s funny you say that.”

“What do you mean?”

“The only person who...who really seemed to give a shit about me was one of the inmates. One of the guys I helped escape. I mean...I know they always say the first rule of working in a prison is not to fall for any of them. But he...he was different, you know?"

"He was into all this conspiracy stuff too?"

"Well...that's what I first thought. He told me got himself into prison to try and break out his brother who was on death row for a crime he didn’t commit, like straight out of a movie or something. It took me a while to get my head around his stories...but I came to ultimately believe him. Naturally, as the Governor's daughter I took the evidence he had to my father, did everything I could to get his brother's conviction overturned..”

“Wait, are they the ones who just broke out? The guy who killed the Vice President’s brother?”

I nodded. " _Accused."_

Paige laughed softly. “Of course. And so you...helped them?”

I nodded again.

“Atta girl!” Paige lifted her mug.

I laughed in disbelief, slowly lifting my mug to meet hers. “What? You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“I’ve had my fair share of crazy,” she nodded and gave my mug a congratulatory clink.

“Like what?” I said, curious.

She shifted her eyes around the room. “Can I trust you?”

“Well yeah, you know everything about me. I haven’t been able to tell...anyone, talk to anyone, nothing.”

She leant forward, lowering her voice to the volume of her breathing. “I helped my parents flee the country when I was in college.”

“Your parents? What were they like...fugitives?”

“Russian spies.”

“You’re fucking kidding me. And _you_ work for the NSA?”

Paige nodded. "My Mom and Dad were KGB Operatives. I found out when I was in High School, but my little brother never did, so when they had to flee I stayed behind, to keep an eye on him. But he was fostered by our neighbour until he was eighteen...our neighbour who was an FBI Agent, so of course he reported everything. So the NSA know everything, they see me as an asset, since I could’ve defected but I didn’t.”

“And are you...an asset?”

“I don’t know.” She put her mug down neatly on my coaster, standing up and starting to wander around my apartment. “Right now, I’m just clocking in, making sure the young guys do their jobs, and clocking out again. I do what I can to prevent harm coming to anyone here, but I’m not going out of my way to make sure that the US has the upper hand either.”

“And the PhD?”

“International Studies at Northwestern.”

“Cool! I did my MD there. Great school.”

Paige nodded. “I mean, I’m a tad older than most of the grads in my programme. But at least I have that vital life experience.”

I laughed. “Thanks for this.”

“For what?”

“For seeking me out, as a friend. I really needed one.”

“Me too.”

She sat next to me and put her hand over mine. “You like origami?”

“They’re not mine. They were a gift.”

She stood up and walked over to my desk, stroking the back of the blue crane with her finger before asking me “from the inmate?” Paige raised her eyebrows.

I nodded. “I’m sure we have loads more to talk about. Do you wanna order some food before we do?”


End file.
